


Down came the rain

by BendyTP



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, And I Mean That Literally, But not Widow's, Cats, Emily seduces everyone, F/F, Homelessness, Love Triangles, Moira is in the doghouse, No Lesbians Die, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Requited Love, Snipers, Sombra hates cats, Sombra is a good friend, Sombra swears a lot, Spiderbyte is the main ship, Tags Are Hard, Time Travel, Tracer is just Tracer, Useless Lesbians, Widow becomes a good friend, Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix Redemption, Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix-centric, Will focus on others tho, actually they might, whoops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-13 04:29:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13562832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BendyTP/pseuds/BendyTP
Summary: Widowmaker is free, but that freedom is turning out to be much more expensive than she anticipated. Still, this spider is a survivor and whether skulking around behind dumpsters or fighting for someone she never imagined she would - she will find a way to thrive.





	1. Fingertips

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just tossing this out there to see if it sticks - I have a basic plan but only one chapter written out. I'm a college student so I won't be able to reliably write, this is just for fun for me.

Inhale. Exhale. She was set upon a wet roof, her rifle resting on the edge of the brickwork. It was still damp from the last bout of rain but such was the permanent state of London. Widowmaker didn’t really feel the cold anyway.  
She glanced through her scope - her current target was a tall and somewhat regal looking business woman. Usually, Widowmaker didn’t really question her targets - but this one was unusual, so far her targets had been overwhelmingly male and a very typical breed of sleezy. This woman was wearing a smart, shaped suit. She was sitting at the head of an impressively long table, hands clasped, more people in suits fanning out on either side of her.

She had been in this meeting for six hours. It must be important, and Widow needed to wait until it was over to take her shot. She wasn’t necessarily sure why - perhaps she desired to give this unusual and vaguely impressive target a dignified death? Not to blow her brains out while discussing what seemed to be stocks and profits on.. Something.

Freelancing. Her lips twitched in wan amusement. Widowmaker had never thought of her future to be killing for money while she hid under both Overwatch and Talon’s noses. It was a bitter freedom, she vanished in a hurricane of bullets and venom mines and had been hiding under bridges and in alleyways since.  
Still, she wouldn’t go back - no matter how many puddles she had to lay in or how hungry she got. No matter if her blood was alarmingly hot in her veins.

Of course, she was cold. Her temperature was still frigid to a normal person - but it was beginning to feel as if her body was both cold and unbearably hot. Her hands were trembling, even now her sights were swaying with the slight jerky motions. For hours the day before, Widow was confined to her hiding place - behind a dumpster - hissing in pain as her fingers were spasming with fiery cramps.  
It didn’t take a genius to realise that without Talon poking and prodding her, her extensive bodily modifications were beginning to break down.

Movement in her sights drew Widow back out of her musings to the clever woman who had stood and seemed to be shaking hands with a couple of men. Their cheeks were red, she could see their chests rise and fall with slightly faster breaths.  
If women began falling from the sky, she doubted they would notice, so transfixed they were on this woman.

It was the freckles, Widowmaker mused. Or the red hair, pulled into a stylish, but simple ponytail - no, the eyes. Amber Brown, warm. The phantom warmth made the sniper shudder, from her fingertips to her toes. The last of the men filed out and Widow lined up her shot again, hesitating for a second.  
It might have been silly, a respect based on a few hours of observation and those eyes, but it didn’t matter, in that second her arms jolted and she let out a surprised cry as her muscles suddenly locked. The cry warbled, ending in a withdrawn hiss of agony as fire rushed up to her elbows. She could only watch as her target sighed, stretched, and strolled out of the meeting room, flicking the lights off as she left.

When her arms relaxed again Widowmaker stood with a frustrated exhale. This was becoming a problem. She examined her fingertips, still tingling with pins and needles. The skin was darkening into a deep cobalt - it made her uncomfortable, but she had few options, it wasn’t as if she could visit a friendly GP and shove her hands at them.

She took her time gathering up her equipment, she knew the address of the target, the license plate number of her car, after some professional stalking. She really only had her rifle and a couple of venom mines, the last of them. She furrowed her brow at some scratches on the paint of one, only to immediately berate herself.  
She was not getting attached to her venom mines.

She examined her grapple, it was beginning to wear from overuse - but Widow was confident that it should hold for some time yet. Nodding at her check, she shot it to cling to the next building, swinging over to the next flat roof. The target was climbing into her car - a little red thing, much like its driver, from her vantage point, and the construction of this part of the city, she could easily follow, the moonlight barely reaching her as she hopped from roof to roof.

The woman drove for half an hour, heading into a place Widow became more and more familiar with. The Row. What would a business woman be doing in the Row? She followed comfortably while the redhead stopped outside a typical english takeout, returning to her car with a brown paper bag and a large bottle of coke.  
A phantom prickling in her mouth startled Widow, for a second, Widowmaker panicked that the constant tingling in her fingers had spread. But, she smacked her mouth quietly and it faded. A memory then.

She narrowed her eyes through her scope at the offending bottle of coke, lips pulled into a frown. The woman climbed back into the car, settling the food and coke on the seat next to her, she paused for a second, not immediately starting the car again.  
Widow was confused for a second before a glow lit up the car. She was texting. Widow strengthened the zoom on her scope, hoping to catch any text on the screen.

She gave up after a minute. She was just glaring holes into a blurry screen. But the woman tossed the phone onto the passenger seat anyway, starting up the car again. Widow sighed, lowering the Kiss and flexing her fingers again as she stood and followed the car closely again.

It wasn’t long from there that the woman pulled up to a stack of apartments. She got out of the car again with the food, humming lightly. Widow scowled. She was obviously meeting someone, and that meant that Widowmaker would have to kill two people, she could charge double, but she’d have to melt away for a couple of months afterwards.  
The redhead pressed a buzzer, it seemed that whoever she was visiting was quite high up, it gave Widow the opportunity to note the buildings around her. They were mostly apartment buildings, with sharp, slanted roofs - not at all ideal for her to set up - but, there were a few a little further away that had roof access. She'd need to make a more impressive shot, but it wasn't undoable.

She grappled over to the nearest suitable roof, two streets over, diagonal from her target. Not bothering with her venom mines, Widowmaker laid out, the Kiss in front of her. she scanned the area.  
She could see through most of the windows on the top half of the building, but kept looking until she could see one of the apartments light up with activity. The redhead let herself into a cozy looking apartment, dropping the food onto a table - next to a bowl of wax fruit. The woman let her hair down and called out for whoever was in the apartment with her. Widow's finger moved to the trigger, her breathing slowed - waiting for a clear shot on both of her targets.

For the second time that night, Widow froze, finding herself unable to pull the trigger. A head of messy brown hair and the unmistakable blue glow of a chronal accelerator wandered unknowingly into the crosshairs of her sights. Tracer?  
Widow released her breath in a shocked and amused yelp. What were the odds? And who was her target to her nemesis? She glanced through her scope again to see the redhead affectionately kiss Tracer, gesturing to the takeout.

Oh. They were lovers then? Widowmaker lowered the kiss, sitting back against the railing of the building she was perched on. It seemed that Tracer's lover had made some powerful and rich enemies, but knowing what she did now, could she shoot the Redhead? What was her name? Emily, something in the back of her mind whispered.

Could she risk drawing Tracer's attention? the answer was an immediate no. Widowmaker and Tracer could dance for hours on a normal day, but the assassin looked down at her painful fingers, this wasn't a normal day. If Tracer decided to come after her, Widow doubted she could escape unharmed.  
She clenched her hand into a loose fist. She'd have to lay even lower than normal with Tracer so close - annoying, but she could take other jobs.

She got up from her perch, slinging the kiss over her shoulder, grappling to the ground, ducking into an alleyway and blending into the dark. She leaned against a dumpster while she decided what her next actions would be. A pang in her stomach decided for her.

Widowmaker didn't need to eat often, but she hadn't eaten in four weeks, and with her body beginning to go bad, Widow guessed she'd need to start finding food more frequently. She headed back in the direction Emily had gotten her takeaway from, finding the place closing up for the night, an employee was heading out with a white plastic bag, leaving it in the alleyway before locking the side door.  
Widow waited for the employee to leave completely before she approached the bag. Digging around in it revealed a couple of portions of chips, a type of battered fish and a chicken burger - perhaps an order that never got collected.

Widow grabbed the bag, not looking a gift horse in the mouth, and headed further back into the Row, choosing an alley with a lot of vents for heating systems of the buildings on either side of it. She set up a venom mine at each mouth of the alley, and then propped herself up against a dumpster, she laid out the food on her lap, starting by digging into the burger.

She was halfway through when she was interrupted by something soft brushing up against her leg. Widow startled so badly that the chip she had up to her face got thrown up into the air.  
She glanced down to see a pair of yellow eyes staring back at her. A cat. It was positively scrawny, it's medium length black fur matted, it's ribs pronounced. It wasn't hard time to see why either - the creature was missing a leg, it's front left one. The injury seemed old, but Widow found herself looking at her darkening fingers and sighed.

She pushed the fish towards the cat - she would be unable to eat it all anyway.

She finished her meal with the purring of the cat her conversation. when it was finished it pushed its way onto Widow's lap and curled up. The assassin didn't bother moving it - spending the rest of her night combing through the creature's matts with her nails.

Widowmaker was awoken in the morning by someone slamming a window above her - unable to remember falling asleep. The cat was gone and she found herself disappointed that it was. She gathered her venom mines and started her morning routine. Her first stop was a familiar apartment - the owner was an elderly man who was out for the majority of each morning. She entered through the small balcony, he seemed to consistently forget to lock the door. She took a shower and then spent the better part of ten minutes checking every inch of her body for changes in the bedroom mirror.

For now it seemed that her fingers and toes were the only parts that were darkening - the whites of her eyes were also quite bloodshot, but Widow didn't know if that was just exhaustion or if something was wrong with them.

From there, the assassin started towards Emily's workplace - a habit that only had her briefly pausing. She no longer had to stalk the redhead - but it wasn't like she had anything better to do with her time, and she had to admit that she was curious about that woman.  
She was at the company building by noon, watching Emily through her scope, her finger off the trigger this time. It was a cloudy day, excellent for her, if it was sunny - Widow may have overheated, or have been easier to spot.

She suddenly startled, again, something had brushed up against her leg. She whirled around, pointing the Kiss at the offender - the cat. Widow blanched, watching in confusion as the cat sniffed the barrel of the rifle.

"How did you-? What? You're lucky my finger wasn't on the trigger!" She scolded the cat, who seemed indifferent to the situation. "How did you even find me?" She wondered, the cat only purring in response.

She sighed as it curled up against her hip, turning back to what she was doing before she was startled into nearly unwittingly killing her target. That thought was ridiculous.

Emily wasn't quite as formal today - wearing business casual, her hair was in a loose ponytail. When did she meet Tracer? How long had they been lovers? Did she know of Tracer's day job? Her lips twitched, of course she did, how could she not? She imagined Tracer trying to hide it.  
'Oh no, luv, don't worry about it, I deliver post for weeks and weeks without break, it's a very demanding job!'

She snorted, looking down at the cat - who yawned but otherwise seemed unamused. She rolled her eyes and went back to her stalking. It was dark before Emily moved from her desk again, stretching out and rubbing her neck. She had worked overtime - it was nearly 10pm already if the clock on the wall behind the redhead was to be believed.

Widow pursed her lips as Emily tiredly headed to her car, something had her skin crawling. She followed Emily carefully, keeping her in the middle of her sights. It was so quick that Widow had launched herself from her perch before she even registered that Emily had screamed, being pulled into the alleyway beside the office building.  
The assassin landed hard, shooting the assailant in the head without hesitation, another one dropped Emily in fright at the booming gunshot, but before he could turn, Widowmaker had snapped his neck - hissing at the euphoria rushing through her at the kills.

Emily was stunned, gasping for air - her breath knocked out of her after being dropped. Widow, pulled the woman up by her collar, not letting go until she was steady on her feet. 

“Are you unharmed?” She demanded more than asked, Emily nodding frantically. “You’ve made powerful enemies. I’d run home to your girlfriend now.” And then Widowmaker was running, hands trembling as the euphoria left her - she just blew her cover! She didn’t turn back even when Emily called out to her to wait, she had no idea why she had acted, it was instinctive, she couldn’t have stopped herself if she’d tried.

As she returned to her alley, the last touches of euphoria leaving her, the prickling in her fingertips bothered her more than it ever had before.


	2. The Dairy Aisle in Tescos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sombra hates cats.
> 
> Edited 12/02/18

She hid for weeks in her claimed alleyway, watching almost obsessively for Tracer and Emily both - as if they were boogeymen, just seconds away from jumping out of her dumpster and shouting ‘Boo!’  
Her cat - as she came to see him - was actually beginning to look a bit better, his fur was looking glossy thanks to all the leftover fish from the takeaway Widow was stealing for him, his eyes were brighter and ribs less pronounced. His near constant company was a balm on Widow's increasingly sombre thoughts.

He was doing better than she was, though - her hands were almost constantly trembling as if she were freezing, her skin now a sickly black and yellow - like the middle of an angry bruise. She could barely line up a shot or handle her mines and grapple and she had given upon doing jobs in this state. Her feet were also becoming useless quite quickly, travelling to the takeout was becoming a startling task - she could walk, but the same fiery agony that afflicted her hands was also in her feet - taunting her with every step.

She was staring up at the moggy London sky, the cat sleeping on her thigh, when a sudden flurry of footsteps caught her attention. It was getting late, in this area of the Row undesirables slinked around the alleyways after dark. She grabbed her rifle, fumbling with it and hoping her poker face held up - common thugs were easy to scare off with a cold glare and a show of her rifle - but she couldn’t even maneuver her fingers to switch it to its automatic mode in this state.

“Mierda, Araña, you look like shit.” Came the voice from the darkness and Widow sighed in relief at the familiar tone, dropping the Kiss again. And, indeed, out from the shadows, stepping over a mine, was Sombra. “Jesus, look at you, your finger isn’t even on the trigger.” She sounded bitterly surprised, it confused Widow - if she was expecting anyone to be able to find her, she would bet Sombra would be the one to do it.

“Why are you surprised? You were looking for me, non?” The assassin asked - tone mocking, question sincere. “Don’t tell me you just hang around in questionable alleyways now?” Widow found her tone growing fond - she liked Sombra, who did what she wanted because she wanted to do it - not loyal to Talon, certainly not loyal to anyone but herself - they had a somewhat warm history, Widow was actually kind of glad it was the hacker who found her, the smaller woman already had sparks of energy coming back to Widow.

“Yes, but I didn’t expect this! Finding you half dead behind a dumpster in a shitty alleyway in London, and anyway-” the hacker paused, eyed narrowing on Widow’s lap. A look of complete and utmost disgust came over Sombra's face - she was horrified even. “Is that a fucking cat?” She asked in a quick exhale, cutting off whatever it was she was going to say before. “Fuck, amiga. Ok, we’re going to my place.”

It didn’t surprise Widowmaker in the least that Sombra had a place in London - she had somewhere to crash in most major cities. “I’m bringing my cat.” Widow stated, aware that Sombra could drag her by the hair, cat or no, without her being able to put up much of a fight.

Sombra glared at the impassive creature and looked like she was going to argue, but softened when she saw how one of Widow’s blackened hands was resting in the creature’s fur - relenting completely when she saw Widow's soft gaze for the animal. “Fine! Bring your dumb cat.” She spat, far more angrily than she actually felt about its presence. “Can you walk?” She added, hoping the concern didn’t creep into her voice. In this state, Sombra could probably carry her Araña home over her shoulder - so bony was she - but Widow had things too, not to mention the cat.

Instead of replying verbally, Widow struggled up, tucking the cat under an arm and the Widow’s Kiss under the other. Sombra sighed indulgently but led on, pausing only to gather Widow’s venom mines. They didn’t travel long, but Widow’s feet protested with every step. Still, Sombra didn’t stop - or even pause to ask questions. The hacker lead her to a positively shitty looking apartment block, Widow raised a brow at the area but Sombra ignored her for the most part, only offering a look that plainly read that Widowmaker was not allowed to judge - seeing as her home was a literal dumpster.

They made their way up a flight of dubious looking wooden stairs and stopped outside a wooden door, its paint chipped and only having an indent where its number should have been - 19. Sombra retrieved a key hidden in a flower pot with a dead fern in it, jamming it into the keyhole and giving the door a solid kick.  
It swung open with a groan to reveal a relatively neat living room. Widow let the cat down and watched it hobble into the room, sniffing at a comfortably worn looking sofa with a discreet looking laptop on it, another laptop, this one vivid pink, was stored under the coffee table. There was no television, instead what looked to be a large computer monitor was in its place, the keyboard on the coffee table, along with an empty ramen cup and just over half a dozen neatly stacked beer cans - arranged in a pyramid.

An island counter with a bookshelf as a bottom separated the kitchen from the living room, on it was a potted cactus and a mug rack with only three mugs on it, a pink one with a rabbit on it, a plain light blue one, and one that read 'alcohealic' The script messily written in purple sharpie.

“I expected something more..” The assassin trailed off, at a loss on how to accurately describe her thoughts while she examined the room. The furniture design was white and smooth, geometric maybe - it gave the apartment a very streamlined and minimalist look. It didn't look like a place Sombra had a say in decorating.

“Shitty?" She guessed - an accurate adjective when dealing with the hacker. "Yeah, I like having it neat for when people come around.” Sombra watched the cat sniff at the laptop under the coffee table like a hawk watching a mouse. Widow let an uncomfortable silence follow, in which both women seemed to be thinking about how to approach their respective elephant in the room, .

“Why did you look for me, Sombra?” Widow was the first to speak, voice soft - she half knew the answer, Sombra was a close friend, but, looking for her could've been dangerous. The hacker seemed legitimately stunned at the question - like it was so obvious that it became difficult to answer. She stuttered for a moment before her expression crumpled, shoulders sagging.

“Why wouldn’t I? You're my best friend. God, when you killed half the cell and vanished, I knew you were in London but you don’t bother using any tech! I had to dig deep, amiga, some thugs were talking about how two of their own were killed on a job - from there all I had to do was check each street ‘till I found you. Talon is in chaos, they think you’re gonna come after them, Gabe is pissed.” Sombra summarized, words spilling out while she nudged Widow to the couch - the assassin sat gratefully, letting out a rattling sigh of relief at being able to rest her feet. “What’s happening to you, amiga?” She then asked, gesturing to her blackened hands.

“I think I’m dying.” Widowmaker stated, keeping it quick - like ripping a bandaid off. She held out her hands for Sombra to inspect - and in her credit, she stayed serious. The hacker took them in her own with a surprising amount of caution, trailing her thumbs over Widow’s dark palms. It reminded them both of far more pleasant occasions - the way Sombra was gently inspecting them seemed almost intimate. She seemed to come to a startling realisation as she turned the frigid hands over and cupped them in her own gently.

“That why you came with me so easily?”

“I don’t want to die alone, amie, and even if you take me back, I think it’s too bad at this point.” Widow confirmed, Sombra squeezed her hands. "I trust you." She added after she was offered the comforting gesture, drawing a heavy smile from the hacker.

“Jesus Christ, you n’ Gabe are so dramatic. You’re not gonna die, Araña. We’ll figure something out." She soothed, but quickly broke from the sombre mood with a sharp "But!”  
The sudden volume startled both Widowmaker and the cat - who smashed into the coffee table, the pyramid of beer cans toppling over with a loud crash. Widow swore she could hear Sombra mutter something about ‘un diablo’ at the cat but she perked back up to finish her sentence. “You’re staying here now! We get to be roomies! Paint each other’s nails, talk about boys n’ sex! No actual sex though, not ‘till you’re better at least.” She winked at that last part.

Widow sighed, but allowed her lips to quirk up in amusement - Sombra was determined to get her mood up. It was working to a degree. The hacker dropped her hands, grabbing another mug from beside the sofa and making her way into the kitchen, there was a rumbling of activity before Sombra returned, depositing a beer into her hands casually. Widow scrunched her nose up in disgust, Sombra knew she hated this stuff. Looking up, she was met with Sombra’s shit-eating grin.  
She was messing with her, of course. The hacker sat down beside her, ignoring Widow's scowl, taking the can back and swapping it for a glass of red wine - which Widow held with both hands, close to her chest.

Widow laid her head on Sombra’s shoulder, a familiar position, letting herself relax for the first time in months. She was with Sombra, she was safe.

**_Talon HQ - 2 years prior_ **

The cafeteria was relatively quiet so early in the morning, but then Widowmaker wasn't usually an early riser - she didn't get to see it at this ungodly hour. Akande was up too - having just arrived back from a mission, but the two sat in silence apart from the occasional slurp of coffee - they had never really spoken to each other apart from on missions - and Gabe was usually the buffer between them, or Moira, but she was probably sneaking off to fuck the good doctor at this time of the morning - a poorly kept secret that only Gabe didn't seem to be in on.

She was awake to meet Gabe, actually, he was bringing in a new recruit - a specialist, assigned to her of all people. Apparently because they both favoured stealth and Widowmaker had not yet been given a new recruit to drag around. She would rather be shooting people. Her mug said as much. She was just about dozing off again, eyes drooping closed when a cheerful voice startled her.

“¡Hola!”

She startled so badly she nearly sloshed coffee all over the table. Widow whirled back to see the culprit, eyes glinting dangerously - and there was Gabe, and a small woman with a bright pink mohawk, ridiculous face paint, and some sort of body mod in her head - it seemed familiar, reminding Widow of the gangs in down in Mexico.  
She was a specialist? In what? Drug running?

“This is Ol-” Gabe started to introduce her, only to have the woman shove past him, trampling on one of his feet while she passed.

“Use that name and I’ll kill you!” She told him in a light tone, the skull makeup moving with her sharp grin - Widow found herself hiding a a smirk, she liked this woman already. “I’m Sombra! You’re showing me around, si?" Her tone seemed shallow, Widow was inexplicably disappointed by this. The new recruit seemed excited, enthusiastic, Widowmaker suppressed a sigh. "Let’s get going, amiga!”  
Widow downed the rest of her coffee in one go, setting her mug down and standing robotically - a practiced way. Sombra winced at the creepy movement, looking at Gabe for his reaction. He seemed impassive and Widow felt relief course through her. Good.

“Widowmaker is a project of ours - we’re still working out some.. Kinks.” He explained, Sombra looking more uneasy now with those words, scrutinising the assassin. Widowmaker seemed.. Blank, like she couldn’t even hear the conversation. But, the more Sombra squinted, the more she could see something in those blank golden eyes. A glint, or a fire - hatred. She smirked.

She abruptly hooked one of the blue woman’s arms with her own, pulling her slightly but firmly. She watched as the large man at the table raised an eyebrow at the gesture, and Reaper seemed to suck in a breath.  
“Right, well we got a whole base to explore, right? Better get going!” She urged, Widowmaker let out a barely audible hiss, trying to tug her arm back - it was futile, Sombra refused to let go.

“Well then, I’ll let you two… bond.” He rumbled, Widow scowled deeply but Sombra seemed to gather even more energy at the words. Once she had tugged Widow from the room, she, quite abruptly, dropped Widow’s arm, along with her shallow persona.

The hacker leaned against the wall of the narrow hallway, arms crossed, eyes bearing into Widow’s - knowing and sharp. The sniper felt the hairs on the back of her neck raise at the sudden shift, it seemed that like her, Sombra was playing a part. She was still smiling, though it had lost its mindless look - it now had an edge to it that Widow couldn’t quite ignore.

“You n’ me? We’re gonna be friends, amiga.” Sombra drawled, taking a step towards Widow with an unknown intent, eyes locked onto the sniper's own. Widow took a step back to match, but her shoulders hit the wall and Sombra’s grin turned almost predatory - like a cat who had cornered a mouse.  
But Widow was no mouse, Sombra knew was playing with fire - drawing her hand closer and closer to the flame to see if she would be burned.

“Why would I want to be your friend?” Widow shot back, a dangerous undertone to her already intimidating voice - a cornered animal. Sombra stopped pushing, taking a step back and giving the sniper her space - letting Widow breathe. Her surface level mindlessness returned easily, her tone back to the excited and shallow lilt it was before.

“Because I’m not Talon, amiga, but then, you’re not either, are you, a-ra-ña?” She leaned over, so close that Widow could see the cracks in her white face paint. “We’re both gonna need friends who don’t let Talon fuck them from behind - you scratch my back, I scratch yours. That sound good?” She posed, her smile slipping for a second. Widow swallowed and gave a slight nod, if only to get the hacker out of her space again.  
Sombra smiled widely, raising a finger and booping Widowmaker on the nose. She then happily spun on her heel and started down the hall.

Their first mission together had been tentative. Widowmaker couldn’t remember being offered friendship before - and so was unsure about how to act the part of friend. Instead she took the role of protector.  
It had been a fairly easy mission until then, despite the involvement of Overwatch. Moira was distracted by Angela, but that was okay because the good doctor was just as distracted - Widow could hear the taunts of Talon's answer to Mercy through her comm, lewd comments, a vicious double edged flirting that left Angela beet red. How did anyone get anything done with all the sexual remarks?

Sombra had been flirting with a new recruit too it seemed - well, as well as she could when that recruit was in a mecha and firing at her. Sombra was fast, a purple blur in the battlefield, but she was also too engrossed with dodging bullets from a giant pink mecha to watch for flankers - it was the tank of a man with a giant hammer, Widow could see the colour drain from Sombra’s face as she saw her only exit blocked.  
The head of his hammer was the size of the hacker, one swing and Sombra would be dead or very close to it.

He was about to bring his hammer down on the comparatively tiny woman when his right hand seemed to explode in chunks of blood and flesh, he let out a roar of agony, reeling back - providing enough distraction so that Sombra could vanish from their sight - the echo if the Widow’s Kiss still ringing in her ears.

Angela raced over to her comrade, Moira taking the opportunity too, to vanish herself. They had done their jobs.

That evening, Sombra appeared in her room, she offered a thanks and a playful kiss on the corner of her mouth. ‘I knew you liked me, amiga.’

 

**_The Present, Sombra’s apartment_ **

All things considered, it hadn’t taken her Araña long to fall asleep on Sombra’s shoulder, the hacker quickly catching her glass before it could spill, her cussing nearly causing Widow to stir - she had a lot of expensive technology in this room, technology that did not need to be bathed in wine.  
She had been combing through heaps information from her contacts, but took a break to glance down at her sleeping friend. She gently took one of Widow’s hands, brushing her thumb over her cold knuckles. She remembered these hands, having them on her was difficult to forget - but they were never so cold, so dead looking - it scared her. She sighed and gently pulled the hand into her lap so she could hold on to it while she worked.

Sombra remembered the information she stole regarding Widow’s body modifications, the files that left her scarred for life - at the time she had no clue if her Araña remembered what she was before - she certainly had her memory jolted when Sombra gave her the information.  
It was then that Sombra clearly remembered that her friend went from passively disgusted with Talon to a very active and obvious hatred, eyes lighting up with fury, grip on her arm tightening painfully.

After three months of the hatred building, Sombra was unsurprised when she got the call that Widowmaker had defected - killing more than half of the agents at the base in a fiery explosion that levelled nearly the entire facility - Gabe convinced that she was still watching, waiting for an opportunity to finish the job.  
La Araña had issues. But at least she waited for Sombra to be away on a mission before she decided to act on them.

What a sweetheart.

Sombra was startled out of her thoughts when the ratty creature Widow had picked up jumped up onto her lap, claws digging into her knees like tiny knives. She glared down at it in disgust. Sombra was most definitely a dog person, this thing was just disgusting.  
The cat blinked up at her, its yellow eyes burning holes into Sombra’s until she sighed and forced herself to relax - she supposed it reminded her a bit of Widow, she could at least tolerate the damn thing on that fact alone.

She supposed she was directly responsible for Araña defecting, but Sombra didn’t regret giving her the information - Talon had really fucked her up, she deserved to know who she was before and what they did to her. Her name was Amelie, she was a ballet performer - they twisted her into a sniper with no memory of her past. She gently squeezed Widow’s hand again, the coldness of it made a chill settle in the pit of her stomach. And now she was rotting away while still alive thanks to them.

She couldn’t focus on her work, instead she pulled her phone out and snapped a picture of her friend’s hand, careful to leave her normal skin out of it in case Moira was still in her lab and had Gabe leering over her shoulder. She then sent it off to Moira. ‘what’s this?’ was the caption. She sent another message after, just to prick Moira where she was comfortable. ‘ask your doctor when you see her again.’

She went back to work after that, gently massaging her Araña’s fingers while she the cat purred on her lap - she still disliked the thing.

Sombra’s life became somewhat domestic in the weeks that followed, well, as domestic as it could be with her dying best friend living with her. It seemed that Widow wasn’t getting any worse - the creeping blackness of her hands hadn’t spread very far.  
Sombra was convinced it was the massages - they became routine, every evening before Sombra went to bed for the night - it usually put Widow to sleep in a comfortable mood.

She remembered that Widow didn’t need much sleep or food while in the base, but was surprised to find that the sniper was sleeping as often as she could, eating every week or even twice a week. Moira had told Sombra that she’d let her know once she had shown Angela, but Sombra was growing more and more concerned.  
At least her Araña seemed to have perked up a bit since she had moved in, she was smiling a whole lot more - at Sombra mostly, and the dumb cat. Sombra was not jealous of a shitty looking cat that was too smart for its own good.

“It’s not the same rush as when I kill, but being with you feels like it could be similar.” she had explained to Sombra when the hacker had noted her near constant good mood. Sombra blushed up to her ears. She was so far gone in her attraction to her friend that Widow just needed to give her a certain look and Sombra felt all fuzzy.  
Going out became difficult with Widowmaker - Sombra had to steal a wheelchair - an event that should never be spoken of, ever. She wrapped Widow in layers of clothes and the assassin would complain around a scarf, her muffled accent making it impossible to really understand only to be ignored completely.

To Sombra, Widow was getting colder, but Widow felt as if she was burning all of the time. Except for her hands, which had gone numb. Sombra definitely wasn’t panicking at that, not even in the slightest.  
They were grocery shopping when Moira replied, in the dairy section of a Tescos, Sombra paused to look while Widow scanned the milks.

“What are you doing here?” came a harsh voice from behind them, Sombra whirled around with her hand on her pistol - Widow craned her head around to try and see who it was but was unsuccessful. The sniper’s skin prickled at the thought of anyone discovering them in a shop.

“Buying vanilla milk.” Sombra replied flatly, backing into Widow’s chair and clutching a handle - trying to to block the assassin from view. “What do you do in a Tescos, amiga?”  
There was a moment of awkward silence, Widow could almost feel the stare boring into her back.

“Who’s that?” The voice demanded, sounding more and more familiar, and indeed, Tracer was the one who appeared in her peripherals. The small woman went three shades paler when she saw Widow, hands immediately on her belt where her own pistols were likely concealed.

“I doubt I’m much threat to you like this, cherie.” Widow purred, trying harder to conceal her hands and fear - there was going to be some interesting titles in the headlines at six. ‘Overwatch Hero Tracer defeats two Talon Operatives in local Tescos’. “Can you not shoot me in the dairy aisle of a Tescos? I've have a bad few months recently and that would be a decidedly undignified death.”

Tracer lowered her hands, looking a bit lost at what to do when another voice sounded behind her - Widow was becoming annoyed at her inability to turn around.

“Love, who’s this? Oh - hullo, I was hoping to see you again.” It was Emily, Widow almost snorted at her luck. She offered the redhead an uncomfortable smile, feeling more relieved when Sombra moved to stand beside her.

“You know them?” Tracer squeaked, paling even further - Widow thought that perhaps she should sit down before she fainted. The thought of offering her wheelchair to her nemesis had her, at the very least, amused.

“Yes, she’s the one who helped me with those thugs in February. Thank you for that.” She added, looking at Widow as she said those words. There was a stunned silence from all participants in this conversation before it was shattered when Sombra cackled suddenly, making Tracer jerk back in surprise. Widow’s face was burning in embarrassment.

“Helping people now, araña?” She ribbed Widow who offered only grumbles in response. Sombra nudged her gently, smile warm and genuinely amused. It had Tracer looking between them suspiciously.

“Is this why you haven’t been around on missions?” The small brit asked, eyes locked onto the wheelchair like it was a weapon or something. Widow went to reply but Emily was faster, eyes wondering to a curious old woman with a carton of cream in her hands - who had been staring at the best before date for way too long.

“Maybe this isn’t a conversation for the middle of Tescos?” She suggested, bringing the other three back to their surroundings. Sombra was the first to move, grabbing the vanilla milk from above Widow and setting it in a basket on the sniper’s lap casually, next to several bottles of coke, a bottle of red wine and a share pack of Cool Ranch doritos.

“We’ll meet you outside.” Tracer muttered, shaking her head like she couldn’t really believe this was happening - Widow could relate.

They ended up heading to Sombra’s - both Tracer and Widow uncomfortable of heading to Tracer’s apartment, the assassin smartly leaving out that she had already been there. After shouting at the cat to move and kicking the door open, they all trudged into the neat living room - nobody except Emily understanding how this situation came to be.

While the three agents settled, Sombra helping Widow to the couch and sitting beside her while Tracer took a seat on a stool she grabbed from the kitchen, Emily busied herself cooing at the cat.

“You two should talk, I need to text Moira, but I’ll stay right here, araña.” Sombra told Widow, pulling out her phone to finally read Moira’s text.

“So, missions?” Tracer started, voice a bit strained, her eyes trained on Emily who was still playing with what she assumed was Sombra’s cat - she couldn’t quite imagine these two people she’s fought countless times before cuddling a cat or drinking a cuppa in the morning in pyjamas..

“I left Talon in January. I was freelancing until late February, I got sick so I stopped after that. Sombra took me in last month, If I was here for you, cherie, you’d already be dead and me gone.” Widow replied bluntly, watching as the taunt got to Tracer and she tensed up. The smaller woman took a calming breath and seemed to refocus herself, though.

“What’s wrong with you?” She asked, scanning Widow’s face, everything seemed normal except that her eyes looked really irritated and red. Widow held her hands up for her to see instead of responding, watching as Tracer recoiled in horror. “We need to take you to Angie!”

Both Sombra and Widow seemed to dislike that idea, Widow more so, who’s posture showed that she had closed up. Hunching in on herself, snatching her hands back protectively.

“And what, let Overwatch arrest and execute me anyway?” She hissed, it was a stupid idea. She knew that Sombra was in contact with Moira, and was willing to wait for her to have the knowledge to help.

“No! We’d help! That’s what we do! Angie’d never let anyone hurt a patient!” Tracer argued, defending her friend. Emily, seeing that things were getting too tense, joined the girls in the living room, dropping the cat in Sombra’s lap.  
Sombra’s face crumpled and she immediately chased it off to Widow’s lap - but the assassin seemed to calm, shooting a grateful glance Emily’s way.  
Emily leaned up against the wall beside the computer monitor, willing to play mediator. She knew that Tracer was blindingly optimistic, it was something she loved about her girlfriend, but she could see where the other two were coming from. Not to mention that Widow had saved her life, the least she could do was get Lena off their backs.

“Love, these two are fugitives right? You know the first thing Morrison would do is call for their arrest - Angie wouldn’t get a say in it. Is there a way she’d ever meet them away from HQ?” She asked, hoping the two would find that better - Widow relaxed, and Sombra was looking up from her phone screen to watch how her suggestion would be received.

Tracer seemed to think about it, Sombra butting in while she did. “I can ask Moira to bring her, she crashes here when she’s in the doghouse.”

Tracer’s face scrunched up. “Angela is in contact with Moira?”

“They go way back.” Sombra stated simply, tapping rapidly at her phone. “Moira says she can probably convince Angela to meet up with us. No promises though.”

“So wait, they’re friends? Are there more Overwatch agents who’re friends with the bad guys?” Tracer asked, stuck on this new piece of information - Widow snorted as Sombra went slightly red, discreetly shoving the pink laptop further under the coffee table with her foot.

“More like rivals,” The hacker covered, coughing uncomfortably when Widow hid a chuckle behind a poorly faked cough of her own. Emily shook her head - bless Lena, but she wouldn’t figure anything out if the answers hit her over the head.

“Well, I’m pretty sure that they aren’t here to cause trouble, love - we should get going.” She urged Lena, who jumped up, nodding - eager to just go home and digest all of this. Emily searched her handbag for something, pulling out a business card and giving it to Sombra, who looked amused at the concept of not already having someone’s number. “If you guys ever need anything,” She let her eyes linger on Widow. “I’ll help however I can.”

With that she ushered Tracer out the front door, waving one last time before slamming it closed.

Widow looked stunned.


	3. Moira

The weekend after their visit with Tracer, Widow woke up to a figure hunched over the island face pressed against the cool marble. A shock of red hair gave away who it was, just Moira, but her unease stayed - Moira hadn't woke her when she arrived. It was a loud process for everyone, yet Widow had slept through it and her bed was the couch for convenience.

She felt miserable, as she did every morning. But as she stared up at the ceiling, waiting for her bleary eyes to focus, went through her daily mental checklist. Toes? Numb. Feet? Still burning, as with her arms, her fingers still numb too. She raised a hand up and tried to wiggle the blurry blackened digits - they refused to cooperate.  
She was still staring blankly at her hand when her gaze was interrupted by another pair of hands clasping hers gently. Turning her head revealed a blurry Sombra. How long had Widow been laying there? She blinked again, but the blurriness didn't clear. 

She was shocked out of going into another trance when she felt warm lips brush her palm, small, pleasant sparks shot up her arm at the action. Sombra, so attentive, could see when she was about to slip away to the back of her mind. Widow felt a rush of affection for the hacker, and offered a wan smile.

"Moira's here, araña," Sombra hummed in a soft, low voice - still heavy with sleep - mindful that said doctor was still asleep on the counter - snoring softly. "You'll be OK now, you just gotta sit up for me." She urged, helping her friend do so. As with every time Sombra took a seat beside her, Widow laid her head on her shoulder and allowed herself to enjoy the feeling of warmth and safety - a tight feeling knotted in her chest, a warm pressure that eased into the familiar euphoria, slowly ebbing through her body - chasing away some of the pain.

She remembered when it was she first felt this feeling, the security, the affection that left her fingers and toes tingling.

_**Talon HQ 2 Years ago** _

Widowmaker almost regretted saving Sombra. The hacker was inserting herself into every aspect of Widow’s life, even if it hadn’t caused any problems for the large majority of the time, Sombra was beginning to see some uncomfortable things - things that were dangerous to her.  
A good example was when she saw a kink Gabe mentioned, a moment in which Widowmaker could hear things that weren’t there, voices calling out to her, names that sent spikes of agony through her skull.

Sombra stood, clueless as to what to do, the sniper curled up and screaming names she did not recognise, calling for Gerard, for Angela for someone to save her - to stop the pain. Sombra barely had any time to throw her cloak up before a bunch of Talon officials she didn’t recognise forced their way into Widow’s sparse room and dragged her kicking and screaming down the hall.

When Widowmaker appeared three days later, Sombra had to reintroduce herself before Widow’s eyes lit up with a flash of recognition. Whatever they did, Widow had forgotten it, not the event, as she could remember it in a cold and detached way - she had no idea who the people were that she was screaming for, explaining that sometimes her neural implants misfired - or so the doctors had told her.  
Sombra hadn’t pushed - it was something Widow was uncomfortable with, Sombra could certainly understand unexpected side effects of neural implants, hers having caused her to fly into murderous rampages until her omnic doctor could find and fix the issue.

Widow had grown unexpectedly close to Sombra in the few short months she had been around base, it was not lost on the hacker, who had watched her new friend scare off just about anyone who dared get too close with vicious glares, yet allowed her to walk arm in arm around base with her. What had she done to earn this strange allowance with the sniper? It wasn’t until much later, head resting on Widow’s cool chest after a long night of, well, bonding, that she had figured it out.

Gabe appreciated their discretion on stealth missions, so seemed to pair them up on default - Sombra acting as somewhat of a spotter while Widowmaker watched over her obsessively - Sombra would be offended if she hadn't known that Widow wasn't babysitting her, but protecting her. They worked well together and had a near perfect record until a specific mission - and although their records suffered, it would mark a significant change in their relationship.

It went bad as soon as they were dropped off. The information Sombra had collected was a trap, the Overwatch AI was getting smarter and Sombra didn’t realise it while she was roughly digging through its code. They had a woman with a rocket launcher waiting, the ground exploding before them after they had only stuck a toe out of the shuttle.  
They immediately requested an evac, but it was still a waiting game from there - Gabe couldn't risk getting a ship destroyed by whoever it was that had the rocket launcher, he couldn't get close to them, and they were being hunted ruthlessly. Both Sombra and Widowmaker often played the game of cat and mouse, but never before were they in the mouse’s position.

After they had scrambled for cover from the woman hovering above them, the two decided to stick relatively close to each other instead of their usual game plan, Sombra taking the lead, scouting ahead every few meters while cloaked, retreating back to Widowmaker’s side when the cloaking wore off to report any danger.  
They stuck to narrow routes, covered by the roofs of the buildings above to escape the rocket assault, Sombra had spotted three ground agents, one that seemed close combat - he had a sword - something neither woman was eager to encounter. Another agent was the familiar girl in the giant pink suit, and then one typical soldier with a gun and what looked like a tactical visor - those were only what Sombra spotted too - there was likely more - there was manic laughter and different explosions in the distance.

They ended up hiding in a slim alleyway, the two barely able to fit in it while standing side by side. Widow set up a couple of venom mines, returning to see Sombra sitting with her knees clutched to her chest. They didn’t dare speak in case they alerted anyone nearby to their location. Instead they sat together for hours in the unbearable heat, they could hear the rocket woman firing on any ships that dare get close to the area, things looked grim.  
At some point, Sombra had reached out and taken Widow's hand in a sudden affection - a camaraderie in their dire situation. Sombra expected Widow to reject her, hoped that she might allow the touch, but never expected the sniper to squeeze back, clinging to Sombra's hand like she was the last person she would ever see. Gold eyes met purple, but no words were exchanged, just acknowledgment that they were both quivering and scared in a tiny glorified ditch - waiting to die.

They were forced to move when there was a sharp beep and crash, one of Widow’s mines was triggered. Widow was the first up, pulling Sombra up by her collar roughly. She shoved the hacker behind her, eyes wild and panicked, knuckles almost white from her grip on her rifle - she wanted to live, she wanted Sombra to live.  
Her desperation was animalistic. They turned the corner opposite the triggered mine only to just about slam into the pink mecha suit, they scrambled on autopilot, diving out of the way of the answering spray of bullets, Sombra dancing out of the way by diving under the suit’s legs. She immediately hacked the suit - stopping the girl inside from using her comms, the guns sputtered and stopped too.

Widow took the opportunity to target the stopped guns, Sombra blindly firing at its legs, they kept going for a few seconds until the inside was flashing red, ignoring the angry korean from inside. Widow was the first to flee again, trusting Sombra to follow. The hacker tried, not looking back when the suit exploded, but losing the noise of Widowmaker’s footsteps in the blast.  
Ears ringing and vision distorting and shaking, Sombra cloaked herself, fleeing into a tangle of small streets nearby. She ducked into a small shop - now abandoned - and hid herself behind the counter in a whimpering dive. Getting separated from Widowmaker was a worst case scenario, for both herself and the sniper - now they were both alone and so easy to pick off it was kinda sad. There were more booming explosions in the background.

“Widowmaker!” She hissed into her comm as quietly as possible, crawling into the small cupboard under the counter and curling up, thanking God for the first time in her life that she had a small frame. “Can you hear me?” There was silence for a few seconds before the comm crackled with a distorted version of Widow’s voice - Sombra couldn't make heads or tails of what she was trying to say. "We got interference, repeat that, araña?" 

_"Got stu-- ground team ------ mines, rendezvous at --- rockets, disARGH!"_ was the reply, Widow's cry of pain chilling Sombra to the bone - she could hear it in person, faint but close enough. The hacker scrambled out of her hiding place, setting down a beacon and rushing out, sprinting like a bat outta hell towards where her friend's voice was last. She ducked behind a hotdog stand when heavy footsteps got too loud, but was lucky, whoever it was was unobservant or distracted - they missed the pained whimpers and hisses that had Sombra's heart pumping fear through her body.

When she finally got to Widowmaker, Sombra gagged, seriously fighting back the urge to vomit. It looked like a giant bear trap, blended in with the sand and dirt of Junkertown. It was snapped closed around Widow's knee, the rusted teeth coated in the Sniper's blood. Widow was trying not to move, the device would creak ominously with every twitch. Her hands were clasped over her mouth, muffling her terrified and pained cries.

"OK ok, I got ya, araña." Sombra tried her best to reassure, examining the trap - the mechanism didn't look complicated, but the hacker could see a detonation device, Widow was standing on an inverted pressure trigger, if she moved the trap would explode. It was barbaric. "You're doing a good job araña, I need you to kept holding still though - I'll get you out."

"Don't leave me here, I don't want to die." was the trembling answer and Sombra felt her heart break. Never. They would get out of this hell hole together or not at all. Sombra wasn't a doctor, but she knew a thing or two from those shitty doctor shows on TV, and reading up on Widow as much as was allowed. For one, Widow was bleeding badly, too much for someone who already had so little oxygen in their blood.  
Sombra grabbed her left jacket sleeve and tore it off at the shoulder, wrapping it around the sniper's thigh tightly to slow the bleeding. Looking at the wound, Widows kneecap was visible, shoved up and in shards, poking through the shredded flesh - there was no way that leg was usable, hell Sombra wasn't sure that leg was salvageable. She needed to get it out of the trap without getting her or Widow blown up, her beacon was in place, she wondered if teleportation would be faster than an explosion.

She stood and gently squeezed Widowmaker's shoulder, the fear in her eyes, the agony, Sombra wanted to save her from it. "I'm gonna release the trap. I've got a beacon waiting but it's gonna hurt bad, Amiga. You have to hold onto me." She instructed, voice firm and confident, much more confident than she actually felt. Widow nodded. Grabbing onto Sombra's left arm with a viciously tight grip while Sombra took aim at the main spring of the trap with her pistol.  
She did it without warning, a shot and then they were being pulled through space, crashing back behind the counter of that shop. Widow was limp against her, finally and mercifully having passed out - or something close to it - from the pain. Her golden eyes were glossy and absent, the only sounds she made were the occasional moan at being jostled too roughly.

Sombra checked her leg again, it looked like little more than a shredded lump of flesh and blood and the hacker felt bile rise up her throat every time she saw the gleam of bone. She was drawn away from the injury when her comm crackled again.  
_"Widowmaker, Sombra, come in!"_ It was Gabe, Sombra nearly cried in relief. _"I'm on route with Moira, but we need that raptora user down! If you target one of the jetpack thrusters she'll be knocked out of the sky - get on it! ETA 3 minutes."_

"No can do, Gabe, Widowmaker is out, badly injured, barely conscious." She whispered just loud enough for him to hear. She pulled the sniper further into cover as she spoke, taking off her ruined jacket and covering the wound. Her hands were covered in Widow's dark blood, it made her want to take dozens of showers to wash every trace of it off.

 _"Shit, OK you do it."_ He demanded and Sombra sat in stunned silence for a second.

"Me?" She sputtered. "¿Es tu totalmente loco? I dunno if you've seen my pistols lately, Gabe, but they can't hit shit if it's further than a meter or two away!" She hissed into comm, she was about to say more, but he beat her to it.

 _"Use the Kiss, you useless hacker! Just aim at the target's back, hold your breath and pull the trigger! We don't have time for this! Once she's down we'll land and your next objective is to get here, with Widowmaker preferably, but leave her if your life depends on it - we can always make another one."_ He shouted. Sombra had to bite back a vicious snarl, make another one? Like she was just a tool? Replaceable? She knew Talon didn't give a flying fuck about it's agents, but to speak so dismissively about one?

"Just tell Moira to prep for an injured agent!" She snarled instead, pulling the device from her ear and letting it hang loosely. She carefully turned Widow around, sliding the rifle out from under her. "When you get better," she told the incoherent woman. "You're teaching me how to use this right - so I can put a bullet through Gabe's head!"  
She took her time, gently propping Widow so that she was safely tucked away behind cover, before activating her cloak and scanning for a good vantage point to shoot from - Widow did this in seconds, Sombra reminded herself, shouldn't be too hard. When she found one she scrambled up to it, settling down and getting used to the feel of the rifle. It was ready for its next shot without any interference on Sombra's part, she sent a mental thanks to Widow for that.

She scanned the skies until she could see the flash of blue she was looking for, the woman was pretty much stationary, hovering in the air while she scanned the ground. Sombra took a few deep breaths, lining up what she hoped was a shot through the scope, she took a slow breath, holding it like Gabe instructed, squeezing the trigger. The boom next to her ear and the powerful kick of the rifle startled the hacker, but she watched the woman cry out and go spiralling to the ground, she did it!  
She scrambled down and back to Widow with adrenaline coursing through her, hands trembling as she picked the blue woman up and positioned her in a soldier's hold. She then activated her cloak and was sprinting again - towards their drop off point.

It was a battle, Gabe was out, the _boom boom_ of his shotguns was a a small comfort, she had to skirt around the downed woman in blue, who was laying face first in the dirt, blood leaking out from parting in her armor. She got her in the back, what a lucky shot. The woman craned her neck up when she heard Sombra's footsteps - the cloaking had worn off and both the woman and Sombra glared at each other in equal parts hatred, but she couldn't move from her spot to stop the hacker's advance.  
Sombra flipped her off but continued on her way with only a hissed _'puta'_ , feeling smug that she got one of them as good as they got Widow.

Once the shuttle was in view, Sombra could see Moira in battle too, launching damaging orbs at any potential route for their enemies. She kept running, barely feeling the burn in her legs until she was in the shuttle. Moira wasted no time in taking Widow from her, a space was prepared but the doctor still looked worried for the sniper's state, shooing Sombra off when she hovered.  
The ride back to base was silent other than Moira muttering to herself as she treated Widow the best she could and Widow's answering groans of discomfort. Sombra found exhaustion and anger weighing her down - she struggled not to let it show.

 

Widow was in surgery for days after, ‘fixing her leg’ Gabe told her when she tried her best to nonchalantly ask. But she was the first person to visit the sniper - and the only one if you didn't count Moira’s post operation check ups.

“I'm not a surgeon among the likes of Ziegler, but I know about building people from the ground up - she actually did most of the work, I just put everything back the way it's supposed to be, with a knee replacement, and encouraged her cells to start regenerating faster than they usually would, I need to keep monitoring the healing progress, but if she continues this rate cellular regeneration, she should be up and shooting people again in a month. Roughly.”

Moira was a geneticist first, healer second - Sombra remembered. All of her science was based on manipulating cells and DNA. It mostly went over Sombra’s head if she was being honest, she was just relieved that the leg could be saved.  
Widowmaker awoke on the second day of bed rest, groggy and confused. She tried to fight against the oxygen mask (more oxygen to aid in cellular respiration, Moira explained.), the iv drip and even Sombra when she tried to calm her down - until she realised that the person trying to keep her in bed was Sombra, and then she stopped fighting completely. 

“I remember some things, you used the Kiss, carried me back. You didn't leave me, even when Gabe said you could.” She rambled, the slurring of the words and the heavy French accent making Sombra lean forward to concentrate. The tired reverence in Widow's voice sobered Sombra - she sounded utterly and completely sincere and honest.  
Widow reached up clumsily, gripping Sombra’s jaw gently and leaned up to gently peck the corner of the hacker's mouth in a mirror of what Sombra herself did when Widow saved her from Reinhardt.

“Geez, araña, if I get thanked like that, maybe I should save you more often.” Sombra joked, ignoring her thundering heart at the tingling that rushed through her at the affection from Widow.

“Well maybe that's the perfect motivation for when we start your shooting lessons.” Widow purred back. Of course she remembered that detail, Sombra almost laughed at how pleased the sniper sounded about teaching her to shoot a rifle. 

“You'll have to stay in bed and let your leg heal, or you won't be shooting, yourself. Never mind teaching me to shoot.”

**_Sombra’s Apartment, present day_ **

She allowed herself a warm smile when she recalled her shooting lessons with Sombra. The hacker wasn't terrible, she was precise and careful, if a bit impatient. Still, Widow made a fine sniper out of her yet, even if she still preferred her pistols.  
She wondered, not for the first time, if Sombra had been serious about killing Gabe. The hacker never gave anything away when Widow asked.

Sombra seemed to realise that Widow was thinking too hard and pressed a soft kiss to her temple, smiling when the sniper practically melted at the contact. “What are you thinking about, amiga?” She asked, gently running her hand through Widow's hair to comb through any snags. Sombra had figured out quickly that her Araña was very much contact starved, and even little actions like holding her hand or playing with her hair could reduce Widow to a relaxed, limp, state - like a cat out in a patch of sun.

“Our shooting lessons.” She replied in an accent heavy lilt, Sombra almost snorted at just how relaxed Widow had become with such simple interactions. Still being reminded of those shooting lessons made Sombra’s face heat up. A kiss or two as a reward slowly morphed as time went on, Widow loved shooting, and she loved Sombra as much as she probably could love another person, bringing those things together had made for some pleasurable results if Sombra performed well. What a motivator.

“The shooting part or-” Sombra began to ask only for Widow to cut her off with an actual snort. She gazed at Sombra with so much amusement and affection in her eyes that Sombra would have ordinarily lost her breath at the look, but the moment was soured by how Widow's sclera were nearly a solid dark red now and Sombra’s heart only sped up with worry.  
“I think it's time to get Moira up. I swear, I didn't even hear her come in -” Widow watched Sombra as she got up and continued her rant to the kitchen, saying something about Moira being the only one on the planet to be able to open the front door without having to kick it down.

She grabbed the ‘alcohealic’ mug Widow had noted earlier and brewed a cup of coffee, grabbing a bottle of whiskey from a cupboard and adding a generous amount to the brew. She set it in front of Moira’s hunched form and gently poked the doctor on the cheek.

“Fág mé ar m'aonar, Angela.” Moira rumbled, sending Sombra into a fit of stifled laughter.

“Wrong babe, amor,” Sombra purred in Moira’s ear, messing with the doctor - Widow was relieved that Sombra’s antics weren't reserved only for her, but the rough purr and strong accent Sombra had let slip into those words, Widow shivered. “But I can kiss you awake like she doesn't do for you.” 

“Fuck off, Sombra.” Was Moira’s reply, in English this time. Sombra cackled, but didn't let up, poking Moira again and easily evading a clawed swat.

“But I made you coffee,” the hacker singsonged, “the way you like it, not the way that's at all healthy for your liver.” She added and finally Moira looked up, eyes zeroed in on the cup in front of her. She snatched it, the sudden movement causing a black blur to dart from her lap. Ah so that's where the cat's been all morning, Widow immediately started cooing at him to go to her.

Moira downed her cup quickly, as if it wasn't scalding hot, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and standing all in the space of twenty seconds. She stretched as she approached the couch, Widow could hear the doctor's joints popping.  
Neither woman really knew where they stood with each other, which made this interaction surprisingly difficult. Moira looked down at Widow awkwardly for what felt like hours before she finally found her voice.

“What's the cat's name?” Was what she came up with, Widow could swear that Sombra’s blurry form was facepalming. She ignored it because Moira had asked a good question, what was his name? Did she ever name him? Did Sombra?  
She looked down at the cat, who had hopped up onto the couch beside her - Moira looking more and more uncomfortable with each passing second that she didn't get a reply. “You did name it, right?” She added after her discomfort had become unbearable.

“No, I don't think we did.” Sombra replied for Widow who hummed thoughtfully. “We don't have time for that cat now, anyway -” She then started only to trail off when she realised that neither Moira or Widow was paying her any attention - still focused on the creature on her couch.

“We should name him.” Widow stated, Moira agreeing with a casual ‘yup’. 

“Mahone.” Moira suggested, drawing a scowl from Widow.

“I like Ash.” She interjected and then both women turned to Sombra expectantly, assumedly to break the tie.  
Sombra sighed, these women would give her grey hairs, Widow was very much dying on her couch, and these two were more concerned with naming Widow's cat than talking about it. Talk about avoidance of the bigger issues.

“I don't care - call it Diablo, it is one.” She rushed out. The cat looked up at her and Sombra jumped, pointing at it as if the other two couldn't see it there. “See, it looked at me, it likes that name, right now can we please talk about Widow's issue? Also I thought you were bringing Angela.” She aimed that last part solely at Moira, eyes narrowing into tiny slits.

“When I asked her to come she assumed I was tricking her into being humiliated or leading her into a trap or something - she thinks the absolute worst of me. I have the first dose and treatment session written down but after that we have to take her to them. Or Angela's not helping.” Moira shrugged. “Sorry, she's been a raging bitch lately.”  
Sombra made a noise a mix between a snarl and a shout of frustration. 

“Can you help? By yourself? Do we one hundred percent need Angela?” The hacker asked after a few deep breaths. Moira turned back to Widow, who seemed to be worrying her lip, kneeling down in front of the woman and taking a hand to inspect. She hmm’d for a few minutes, testing what she could, visually. 

“As far as I can tell, the tissue is dying. I can help, but she'll end up like Gabriel - I don't know how to resurrect like Angela. Another option is amputation, before you're too long gone, but that's not an option I'd ever see you considering.” She nodded when she observed Widow's grimace and firm head shake. “Didn’t think so. As much as I hate to say it, we really do need her assistance.” 

Sombra could see Widow’s anxiety rise, the gnawing on her lip became rougher, her pupils only pinpricks in her irises. They were backed into a corner, it was hand themselves over to their longtime enemies or die. Sombra eyed Widow's expression carefully. She knew what she would do, she was prepared to drag Widow to Gibraltar herself if the sniper refused treatment - she was not prepared to sit and do nothing while Widow died next to her.  
She had kept a confident and relaxed face on for her friend, of course, but watching her deteriorate had been the most harrowing experience Sombra had ever lived through.

“I don't really have a choice, do I?” Widow finally breathed in a small voice, rough, tired. “Sombra, will you-” she began, but Sombra was already nodding furiously, just inches away from gathering the sniper up in her arms.

“Of course, I won't make you go alone, araña. I gotta make sure you don't try and kill anyone!” She joked, voice as cheery as she could make it, it cracked with emotion, but the small, relieved smile she got made the embarrassment worth it. 

Moira had the decency to try and disguise her eye roll as a sudden interest in Diablo washing his face. She was still stood awkwardly at the end of the couch.


	4. So a Doctor, Hacker and Sniper walk into a bar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight warning for toxic relationships/cheating

It must have looked completely ridiculous. It was the dead of night, a doctor and a hacker were sneaking around outside Watchpoint Gibraltar, with a wheelchair bound sniper - all technically Talon operatives as far as Overwatch’s data knew.  
As uncomfortable as Sombra looked, pushing an equally uncomfortable Widowmaker, Moira looked inappropriately casual about the whole thing. She was leading them through what looked like a training facility, weaving her way through the inactive course with an ease that came with familiarity.

Sombra hadn’t known that Moira met with Angela right under Overwatch’s noses. She had big balls, but then again, she was an irishwoman. The hacker had a newfound respect for the doctor.  
Moira stopped at a door with a keypad, an entrance. She typed in a code that Sombra ingrained into her memory easily, holding the door open for Widow and Sombra. 

“Good evening, Doctor.” A synthetic voice startled Sombra, she glanced around for a speaker or hub for the AI, coming up blank, the hallway they were in looked normal. “Mercy is currently in her office with agent Amari.” The voice paused, tension building. “Your guests are coming up as targets of Overwatch-” The AI started, Moira cutting it off before Sombra and Widow could begin panicking and tearing through the base.

“Override system function alert Winston, authorisation code M-O-D-A-Z-8.” Moira stated, another code for Sombra to commit to memory in case she ever needed it, overriding functions of an AI? Very useful indeed.

“Very well. Enjoy your evening, Doctor.”

Moira looked more smug than Sombra had ever seen her when she turned to them, smile wide and sharp. “Angela thinks I was too preoccupied to remember her authorisation code the first few times she snuck me in, she added my identity to the AI’s accepted agents, so we shouldn’t have any more access issues, still, it feels good to have free reign over this AI - feels like victory.”  
Widow snorted, but she and Sombra let her have this moment.

Sombra’s nails had been gently tracing the back of Widow’s neck since their little group left her apartment, a small comfort for her incredibly tense sniper - every time Sombra stopped Widow would give her an impatient look until she carried on. It was the only thing keeping the sniper from panicking completely, seeing as they left their weapons at home and Widow could barely feel her palms.  
Sombra soothed the woman as much as she could in this situation.

“What about what the AI said, Angela is with someone.” Widow noted but Moira waved her off casually.

“A bug, I’m sure. Angela has started catching up on sleep at this time - she kicks me out to sleep or continue some research she’s been stuck on recently. She’ll be in the medbay - probably passed out face first in some files.” She explained, seemingly warming - the words coming out as affectionate more than haughty as they usually were. “So devoted to her research,” She added, more to herself - a small, fond smile coming to her face.  
Sombra knew that look, she gently tangled her fingers in the soft hair in the nape of Widow's neck, watching as that same fond smile came to her arañas face, her golden eyes slipping closed at Sombra’s attention.

Moira liked Angela more than she let on. She was just emotionally stunted, she realised, snorting, just as stunted as the rest of them. Sombra began to feel a bit sick at the thought though, she very much cared for Widow, she loved her even. But the hacker hadn’t seen any evidence that Angela felt the same about Moira, would they turn out like her and Widow?  
Somehow Sombra realised that it didn’t look likely. She hoped she was wrong.

They moved through the halls quietly and carefully, pausing when any of them thought they could hear footsteps, voices or the ruffling of clothes. That was why all three startled so badly when Moira turned a corner and slammed into a much smaller body. The doctor acted quickly, grabbing the smaller woman and slapping her hand roughly over her mouth with a painful sounding clap. The captive squeaked in fright and pain, the sound muffled.

“Oh hell,” Sombra muttered - recognising the girl immediately. It took Widow a little longer, staring into wide dark eyes until it clicked. It was the girl who piloted the pink suit. “Chispa, listen,” Sombra said in a low, hurried, voice - the nickname confusing Widow and Moira. “We’re not here to lay siege on Overwatch, ok? So don’t scream or nothing.” She instructed, waiting for the girl to nod quickly. Moira shrugged and released her when Sombra nodded, the girl stumbling in a hurry to get away from her, cheeks red.

“Sombra! What are you doing here?” She hissed as quietly as she could, seeming to trust her, while looking at the other two suspiciously, eyes lingering on Widow. “And don’t you dare ‘Chispa’ me!” She added, crossing her scrawny arms. Widow was unimpressed.

“Hana, to be fair, Moira is usually coming and going, so we didn't break in or anything.” She tried to play off, even if that's actually exactly what they did. “We’re here for Angela.” She finished and suddenly it was as if Moira and Widow ceased to exist, Hana was focused completely on Sombra, eyes scanning over every inch of the hacker. It made Widow itch uncomfortably - a prickling feeling going down her spine.

“Are you hurt?” She almost shouted, drawing an urgent ‘shh’ from all three. She went silent immediately - looking apologetic at least. 

“No, Widow is, bad, so we really need you to pretend that you didn’t see us and go back to your room, ok?” Sombra urged. Hana looked back at Widow, suspicious gaze turning curious and then understanding when she caught a hint of the colour in the sniper's eyes. She didn’t say anything, nodding at them gravely and carrying on down the hallway, just like Sombra asked, throwing Sombra one last meaningful look over her shoulder.

“Cute.” Moira remarked dryly, Widow letting out her breath in a tense hiss - almost caught by a child! “You have a thing for younger woman?” The doctor ribbed and Sombra stuttered, looking at the back of Widow’s head as her face flushed - was her araña jealous? There was no reason to be. Just in case, Sombra decided to clear it up.

“We fucked once, ok? Then we discovered that we work so much better as WOW partners.” and just like that all of the tension melted from Widow’s form, her stern expression turning amused and affectionate. Moira shook her head in disgust - as if playing an ancient MMOPRG together was somehow more shameful than fucking on the regular.  
Sombra stuck out her tongue at the doctor - secretly relieved that Widow hadn't reacted badly to the news.

They made their way to the medbay quietly for the rest of the way, stopping outside, Moira was about to knock but froze with her hand halfway up. Sombra was about to ask what the problem was, taking a step forward, when she heard it.  
Moans, high pitched and breathy. Oh. Oh no. Sombra looked up, from this angle she could only see Moira’s red eye. Her brows were furrowed, form still and expression unreadable. Her jaw worked, the muscles tensing, taking a step back.

Sombra reached out, taking Moira’s hand in a very similar way to how she took Widow's and tugged her away from the door gently, back around the corner. They didn’t say anything - what could they possibly say to her? The silence was unbearable with the sounds muffled moans making Moira flinch harshly every single time. Widow’s expressive eyes were sad, some unknown emotion swam in their depths, she leaned her head against Moira’s arm to comfort her, Sombra on her other side, still holding her hand.

It felt like forever until the medbay fell silent, Moira’s expression had grown cold, but she clung to Sombra’s hand, sharp nails digging into the smooth skin painfully - she never did stop flinching at Angela's moans. The door around the corner opened and all three craned their head around the corner to see who exited. Sombra recognised her as the woman who she’d last seen paralysed in the dirt of Junkertown after she had shot her down - it almost made the hacker wish she could try again, now with years of practice under her belt.

“Faheera.” Moira supplied, voice rough and hoarse. “Angela talks about her a lot.” The silence was heavy with unspoken realisations, the scientist seemed to be thinking more deeply about Angela's interest in the other woman now. She turned to Widow, staring deeply into the sniper’s deep red, cloudy eyes. “It doesn’t matter.” She stated resolutely after a few seconds. “We came here to get her to treat you - that is what we’ll do.” Her voice was hard. She then turned the corner and marched right into the medbay - heels clacking, Sombra scrambling to keep up.

Angela was a mess, her shirt was hastily buttoned, face flushed, her skirt still haphazard. “Moira! What are you doing here?” She was demanding angrily when Sombra made it through the door with Widow - shrugging on her lab coat. 

“Bringing the patient I told you about.” Moira’s voice was clipped and icy. “Like you told me to.” She gestured to Widow, keeping the motion slow, form completely formal and cordial, but gaze burning viciously. “Evidently I was also catching you with another woman, but we can discuss that later.”  
Angela’s eyes lit up with a glare to rival Moira’s at the quip, so hostile that Sombra fought against the urge to recoil, herself. Moira stood her ground, never breaking eye contact.

“You know what-” The blonde began in a raising voice, but abruptly shut her mouth with a clack, staring at Widow like she was seeing a ghost. “What? The patient was real? And Widowmaker! How did you get them in-” her blue eyes widened in realisation. “you bitch!” She whirled on Moira, ready to strike the taller woman. Moira caught the smaller hand in her own with practised ease. “You used my authorisation code!” 

“We do not have time for this, Angela!” Moira snarled, pointing to a very uncomfortable Sombra and Widowmaker, who were now just staring at the two with wide eyes. “Her body tissue is rotting while she’s sitting there, now do your fucking job and save her, Mercy!”  
Angela snarled back at the use of her callsign, but pulled herself free from Moira’s grip, turning to Widow angrily. The sniper tensed up at the open anger, feeling threatened. Sombra, in response, stepped in front of her araña protectively, stopping Angela’s advance.

“Maybe you should take a breath, doctora, count to ten or some shit, ‘cause I’m not letting you near her while you’re this angry.” She warned in a level voice. Moira looked apologetic, not meaning for Angela to get so worked up. This was normal for them, the fighting, the vicious shouting matches, she looked ashamed that Sombra and Widow had to see this.  
Sombra felt her hands clench into fists - feeling sick that she had drawn connections between her and Widow’s relationship to this. And this had been going on for well over five years - Sombra couldn’t imagine raising her voice to Widow, reaching out to strike her with the same hands that she loved the sniper with - just the thought made her want to turn around and make sure that Widow was OK and unharmed.

Angela looked ready to argue, still ready for a fight, but she saw the fear in Widow’s eyes, the fierce protectiveness in Sombra’s, and felt horrified with herself. She held her hands up passively, looking down at the cold tiled floor while she let the revulsion at her own actions calm her.

“I’m sorry,” she said once calm. “Please let me see her.” She looked straight into Sombra’s eyes as she said it. The hacker searched her gaze and nodded when she was satisfied, returning to her previous position, behind Widow. Angela kneeled down, first noticing Widow's eyes. She winced at the colour and cloudiness, those didn't look good. She fumbled in the breast pocket of her shirt, pulling out a small light and shining it in the sniper's eyes, the pupils barely reacting - the woman must have been near blind by now.  
She pocketed the light again and next took one of Widow's hands. She jerked back defensively with a hiss and Angela winced. She hadn't thought of asking about pain relief. “I'm sorry, does it hurt? Would you like pain relief?” Better late than never.

Widow shook her head, allowing Angela to take her hand again - she had just been startled then. Much like Moira had the first time, she examined skin by gentle prodding. She thought about it for a minute and abruptly stood smoothly, heading over to her desk and opening a draw.  
“I need a blood sample, then I need you to settle on one of the beds while I do some configurations on the nanobots I'm going to inject into the sites - that should help revive the tissue quite rapidly.” She rambled, not really talking to Widow as she planned out her course of action.

She returned to Widow with the needle and tourniquet, about to start the process when Moira spoke up. “Don't bother tying that, her blood pressure is too low.”  
Angela rolled her eyes but knew that Moira had been looking after Widow for years and so didn't argue.

She took blood right from the hand, Sombra had to look away when the sluggish black liquid slowly began filling the vial. Widow didn't protest or flinch, her eyes locked onto her own blood. In the silence of the room, Angela's whispered ‘please don't faint’ was almost a shout. It was always the ones who thought they could watch that ended up passing out.  
Widow didn't faint, she didn't even feel the needle, but for the first time in a while, she felt a bit of hope.

Angela returned to her desk, pulling up a microscope which had been perched on a stack of folders. She dropped some of Widow's blood onto a slide, then opened a drawer and pulled out another needle - this one filled with a golden liquid. She dropped some of that onto the slide too, quickly covering it with a slip and sliding it into the microscope's stage.  
She examined the slide for a few minutes, nodding at something she was seeing. She fumbled at a stack of papers on a table beside the desk, pulling out a blank chart and quickly scribbling notes down - she'd transfer them to a digital medium later.

While Angela was busy, Sombra helped Widow up, slinging one of the sniper's arms over her shoulders and gripping around her back with the arm squished against her. She took most of Widow's weight until she was stood in a better position for Sombra to sweep her off her feet. Literally.  
She gathered Widow up into her arms, easily carrying her to a bed and settling the sniper into it, offering a light kiss on the cheek when she let go, to soothe the woman. Widow shifted a bit, but otherwise settled without much fuss, used to Sombra carrying her around by now.

Angela returned to them with a large syringe filled with an almost clear, barely silver liquid. The tapped it twice, the glass plinking lightly, when slowly the liquid began to glow golden. She took one of Widow's hands, carefully sliding the needle into a vein and injecting the liquid. She then repeated the process with the other hand and her feet.

“I need to observe their progress now. Feel free to rest, you don't need to be awake.” She told them, pulling up a chair and settling for a couple of hours of observation. Widow blinked as she felt a warmth in her hand that quickly became an itchy tingling. There was no way she'd be able to sleep. Instead, she tried to focus on the blurry form of Sombra, who was hovering over her protectively. Widow smothered a laugh before it left her throat - the hacker looked like a caveman, hunched over the bed, shifting uncomfortably. The mental image of her friend with a club certainly lifted her spirits.  
Moira grumbled, snatching a holopad and the handwritten chart and beginning the process of transferring the data, adding in details about Widow that Angela had left blank. For a long while the office was silent, only the tapping of a stylus against the holopad and Sombra's uncomfortable shuffling could be heard.

Somehow Widow found that those two things were comforting, and felt herself fall into a light sleep, despite the itching in her hands and feet. The state was strange, not awake enough to be fully aware, but not asleep enough so that she wasn't. Voices and sounds were muffled, sensations were muted but Widow could still experience them.  
She became aware of a hand running up and down her arm, warm and comforting. She heard the echoes of raised voices, but could not understand what they were talking about. When she found herself awake again, the medbay was dark and Sombra was pressed against her back.

"Go back to sleep, araña -" Sombra husked when Widow tried turning to her, slinging an arm over the sniper's waist. "I'm here, I didn't mean to wake you."  
And Widow sighed and did as Sombra told her, this time it was peaceful.

Widow came into awareness when she felt a pressure on her right hand. An annoying pinching that disturbed her enough to wake her. It wasn't Sombra, that much was clear by the light arm draped over her side and the comforting, soft breaths brushing the back of her neck. She could feel Sombra's nose pressed into her shoulder, one of her hands was tangled in Widow's left.  
That meant that whoever was fiddling with her hand most likely wouldn't have been agreeable with her. A golden eye cracked open, sharp and dangerous. It was Angela. Widow could see the doctor's blurry face pinched in a look of concentration as she scribbled something onto a holopad and then went back to her annoying prodding.

"What are you doing?" Widow growled lowly, a deep but sharp rumble that the sniper kept purposefully quiet as to not disturb Sombra - enjoying the warmth soaking into her skin. Angela startled, fumbling the stylus and letting it drop to the tiled floor with a loud clatter. Widow exhaled as she felt the beginnings of her familiar irritation, Sombra stirred as she tensed but didn't wake, only instinctively pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder, cuddling closer to the sniper.  
Widow savoured the rush of euphoria, letting it ease her irritation somewhat.

"I was just checking the progress of your hands." Angela huffed defensively, bending down to retrieve the pen. "I didn't want to wake you two - you look.." She trailed off, eyes lingering on Sombra's arm - still thrown over her side. She seemed to be trying to find the right word. "..comfortable." She settled on, cautiously.  
Sombra mumbled in her sleep, a slurring sentence in Spanish in a husky purr that had Widow suppressing shivers. Angela looked skeptical, even more so when Sombra pulled Widow even closer to her, like the doctor couldn't quite believe that two talon agents were so domestic. Ironic considering Angela's own position when it came to Talon agents and relationships. "Have you two been together long?" She asked, trying to make obvious small talk to distract her while she went back to poking Widow's hand.

Widow almost snarled at the blonde to shut up, but bit her tongue. Angela had no right to ask about her relationship with Sombra, that was precious to her - but the doctor was also saving her life. "I have cared for her for longer than I care to remember." Was Widow's vague and curt reply a compromise between her want to snap at the annoying doctor and the need to live.

"Nearly two years." Was a sleepy interjection from Sombra. They had woken her, Widow felt her irritation peak, but Sombra pressed another kiss to her shoulder, and then the nape of her neck - these deliberate - and she melted back against the hacker. "She fucked me against the wall of a shooting gallery. It was a wonderful lay, I'd say you should be jealous, but Moira's fucked you plenty up against walls and over tables n' shit, hasn't she?" It was a sharp jab where Angela was insecure and it had the doctor fighting to stay composed when all she wanted to do was stab Sombra with a scalpel.  
Speaking of Moira, Widow scanned the med bay for any signs of the woman, only to find her hunched over in a chair in a darker corner of the room. She stayed? Widow hadn't expected her to after the abrupt discovery that Angela was seeing another woman - why should she? Was she protecting them? Was it curiosity?

Moira's eyes were closed, breathing soft and light, but her face looked more gaunt than usual, dark rings around her eyes, skin a sickly pale. It was like the woman had aged ten years overnight. Widow felt a muted ache in her chest as she observed the irishwoman. Sympathy, she thought it was.  
She tried to imagine the feelings Moira must've been experiencing, but the only person she actually remembered having a sexual relationship with was Sombra and they had an unusual relationship in general. Widow tried to imagine what she would feel if she discovered that Sombra had slept with another person, and she felt surprise shoot through her when she remembered that Sombra had. So what did she feel?

She glanced down at their laced hands. A rush of something blissful, was her answer - a feeling that she only ever felt with Sombra. Did it fade when Widow thought of the hacker sleeping with the small Korean girl? No. Widow felt a slight itching going up her arms at the thought of Sombra holding Hana like she was holding her now, though. She frowned.

"What time is it?" Widow broke the building tension by asking, letting out a pleased sigh as she felt Sombra begin to lightly comb through her hair with her nails to soothe her - she'd never grow tired of this sensation, the bliss that left her basking in Sombra's touches - she practically swooned.

"Just after 4pm." Angela supplied shortly, looking a bit uncomfortable at the PDA. Sombra noticed and smirked wickedly - filing that away for later use. She could really make her araña moan if she wanted to, but she needed to save it for when the doctor was least expecting it - that would make it all the better. "It makes sense that you guys would sleep for most of the day, last night was quite tiring, these procedures can really wear you out."

"Just the procedures? The night wasn't exhausting for any other reason?" Sombra asked pointedly, looking over at Moira and then back at Angela in an obvious gesture. She shifted her gaze back and forth until Angela's eyes flashed in recognition and her expression turned sour.  
Sombra let the doctor stew a bit, turning to her spider. Last night, Angela told them that the neural conditioning would also be wearing apart, the Widowmaker personality would break and maybe traces of Amélie would return. She seemed so hopeful, so pleased that perhaps her friend would return to her. Sombra only felt uncomfortable and scared. 

She loved Widow, not Amélie - she hadn't even known Amélie, the thought of the woman she loved so fiercely breaking had Sombra selfishly hoping that Amélie had withered away, and wouldn't emerge ever. She would have to have a conversation with Widow about this - the hacker wasn't sure she had even heard the conversation properly - being mostly asleep at the time.  
Sombra found her lips twitching into a gentle smile when she noted that Widow's eyes were looking a bit clearer, her hands were slowly gaining some of her natural blue colour back in splotches, she felt like she could finally breathe, like Widow wasn't ready to die if she turned around for a second.

"Moira is a big girl," Angela stated dryly, jabbing Widow a little too hard and drawing a hiss from the sniper. Sombra shot a protective glare at the doctor who softened her touches - the intensity in Sombra's eyes intimidating her. "She knew that we weren't exclusive." She trailed off, hoping Sombra would let it drop.

"Are you sure about that? It didn't seem as if she knew when she heard your moans through the walls." It was Widow who spoke, and perhaps that's why it made the doctor flinch like she had been struck - Sombra had already established herself as having judged Angela, but Widow had been quiet on the subject. "She seemed pretty surprised actually, like one would be when opening an extremely unpleasant gift."

"She can speak for herself." Moira suddenly croaked from her seat. She straightened up, joints popping unpleasantly as she did. She looked at Widow and Sombra with an unreadable expression, brows drawn together slightly and eyes focused on Sombra's and Widow's in turn. She seemed to be studying them. "This is none of your concern anyway." She told the duo on the bed - though her voice had none of it's usual edge, there was no anger or annoyance colouring the words.  
Appreciative. Moira hadn't expected anyone to ever speak up for her. It was also unnecessary - she was perfectly capable of yelling at Angela herself, but that didn't mean the support didn't feel nice.

"Afternoon'." Sombra chirped, waving Moira off, casually. "Now that everyone's awake, who's up for some coffee?" She gently extracted herself from Widow, who made a low sound of protest at the loss. Sombra chuckled. "Oh stop, you're worse than a child." She teased the sniper who flipped her off weakly with her free hand.  
It was impossible to be offended, when just the morning before Widow couldn't move her fingers at all. Sombra blew her a kiss as she waltzed out the door, hands clasped behind her head - strolling around like she owned the place. Moira facepalmed like she was experiencing the beginnings of a headache, Widow only shook her head in amusement.

"Does she know where she's going?" Angela asked the two, wondering if she should call Winston. She tried to imagine the conversation. 'Yes, hello, no don't mind the dangerous hacker, she's just in with the world's deadliest sniper and public enemy to ethics no1, for a visit and checkup, no don't sound the alarm she just wants a coffee.' She was losing her job over this.

"Of course she doesn't." Moira grunted uncomfortably, not looking at Angela as she spoke. "How are you feeling, Widowmaker?" She then asked, a question Angela was ashamed to realise that she hadn't asked yet. She was really off of her game - and probably making a horrible impression on the sniper.

"Tch. Widow is fine, 'Widowmaker' is so dramatic - and I've seen you in your underwear, I think we're past professionalism, non?." Widow scoffed, but took the opportunity to take stock of her body. "My eyes seem better, I can see your shape adequately. I can bend my fingers and toes at will and they are burning quite painfully so I'm taking that as a good sign." She responded, much to Angela's surprise. She hadn't expected the sniper to answer so easily - it was practiced, built on years of the same question being asked after reconditionings at Talon. Moira hummed, standing and approaching the bed.

"You certainly look better. Fascinating that it's such a rapid change." She stated, Angela recognised that scientific hunger in Moira's eyes. Widow laughed, a short, cold laugh, but Moira's lips curled up too, despite the tone going icy. Angela felt the chill and shuffled uneasily.

"You're not going to stick me with any more needles, are you? I'm afraid you know my body better than I do." Widow jabbed and Angela realised in that moment that Widowmaker was Moira's doing. A cold feeling shot through the doctor, dread and revulsion tangled into an unpleasant burning in her gut. Had she been fucking the same woman who turned Amélie into a monster?

"Not unless some fool turns you blue again, I could be a surgeon after all those hours spent trying to salvage your heart and lungs. Honestly, what fool tries to lower blood oxygen so much? Amateur." The banter was extremely uncomfortable for Angela, who had sat back in her chair to observe the two while masking her compete disgust. Widowmaker was at least partly Moira's doing - she corrected her earlier thought.

Did that make it better? Especially when Widow had thrown her head back in a rough laugh, noting that she was rubbing off on the doctor. The two seemed almost like friends, Widow trusted Moira. Angela exhaled shakily, pushing these musings back to think about later - now she wondered what the Hacker was doing.


End file.
